a siren’s voice

by Ashvini Giridaran

i still struggle to reckon with the ways of your voiceits sound is a tumultuous wave,which tides me underwater…bequeathing me beneath the bravado ofyour spell…chilled cognac is carefully concocted into my colaprepared under the deafening roar of a summer suburban house party; collusionis the mutual agreement between you and what the ‘ woman in me’ wantswhat i wantis a balance, a sword, and a seat at my own tablenotthe scarlett rose you pressed in my palm, whispering into my earnor the jewels you tied around my neck on my birthday; smile trained for the camerasor the feeling of your sick body plastered over my ownamidst a basement celebration of youth+freedomgone awryyour tone pulsates through my veins, words roaring in my earthat i want thisi don’tbut you get want you want anywaysmusic stops, roses wilts, waves crashi still struggle to reckon with the ways they whisper my suffering was “my choice”yet you join the line of pitied men led astray by a siren’s voice